


Guarded Crossings

by livico



Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Hellmouth Sunbeams (Blaseball Team)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27989478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livico/pseuds/livico
Summary: A roughly nonlinear Sandoval Cross-Section of the history of the Hellmouth Sunbeams, the nature of change and transition, and life in Blaseball's worst town. CW: Memory loss, descriptions of combat, incineration/death, and the usual Blaseball stuff.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Guarded Crossings

**Author's Note:**

> This has been living rent free in my head for weeks. A lot of it's based on/inspired by the Twitter RP community (running Sandy's account @rallypitcher is legitimately so much fun) and the lovely folks in the Sunbeams Discord and my own constant thoughts about the Sunbeams. Enjoy!

**TWO BEGINNINGS**

_Hello, mortal._

“Uh... who’s there? I can’t see- it’s so bright-“

_What is your name?_

“S-Sandoval, I, uh- where am I?”

_Curious that you would end up in this place, Sandoval. And that on your vest, ‘Crossing?’ Is that your surname?_

“What? No, my last name is… C… Ca? What is it?”

_Is something the matter, Sandoval?_

“I can’t remember, I- why can’t-“

_Too much time in this light blinds you to yourself, Sandoval._

“I was- I was at work, and then-“

_Easy. Take it easy, Sandoval. This is a strain on your physical form._

“You didn’t answer- where am I?”

_Far from home, Sandoval. Far from home._

“Easy. Take it easy, kid. Here, have some water.” The tall person crouched down, providing the first shade that Zack Sanders had felt in what was most likely days. They held out a bottle of water to her, and she took it quickly with strength she didn’t know she had left.

“Thanks…” she croaked out, before beginning to chug the bottle down.

“Whoa, no no no. I know you’re thirsty, but slow down. You chug like that, you’re just gonna regret it. Let your body get back into the swing of having water in it, Sanders.”

“You know my name?” she asked.

“Of course I do. It’s printed on your uniform.” They point, and for the first time, Zack notices her clothes. For some reason, she was wearing the outfit of the Moab Sunbeams- a crop top blaseball uniform with her name printed right on it.

“What? When did I…”

“You’ve been playing with us for four days. You’ve been in a fugue state. Welcome to the team, Zack.”

“You’re… wait, I just… blacked out and joined a blaseball team?” 

“Mhm. It happens sometimes. You don’t want to leave, do you?”

“No, um, I guess… I don’t? Which is weird.”

“Oh, it gets weirder.” They jerked their thumb over their shoulder, the edges of their hand shimmering in the haze. “Sun’s our coach.”

“The Sun’s… our…”

“Coach, yes, that’s what I said. C’mon, kid, we haven’t actually hit the weird stuff yet.” The figure glanced over their shoulder to nod to an approaching silhouette, and the shift let Zack see the name on the uniform: CROSSING.

* * *

**THERE’S A NEW SHERIFF IN TOWN**

Sandoval hummed a tune as she walked through the door into the locker room of the Solarium, passing the shower room, the chalkboard where the team talks strategies, and the rack of mostly-cursed swords. She strolled to her locker with a spring in her step, well-refreshed and ready to get to practicing. Sandy wasn’t trying to prove anything by getting to practice so early- it was just something she did, and usually the rest of the team filed in about 20 minutes after the fact.

“Oh, uh, hello there? Excuse me?”

So you can sort of see how that would make her jump out of her skin.

Sandoval spun around with her stop sign in hand, raising it towards the intruder. As she opened her mouth to speak, her words stopped in her throat, cut off by a short grunt of confusion. Before her stood someone she’d never seen before, a person who was hard to make out at first. As her sun-filled eyes focused, she made out the shapes of nearly uncountable phantasmal arms surrounding the person.

“Uh… no non-players in the Solarium, friend,” said Sandoval. “It’s not safe in here, not even for us.”

“Oh, but I am a player!” the person responded. “...I think.” And it was then that Sandoval’s eyes trailed down and caught the image of a Sunbeams uniform on the new person, emblazoned with the name TAYLOR.

“...Uh, Taylor?”

“Yes! Lars Taylor. Yes. That’s me. You can call me Lars, though. And we’re players together!”

“Right.”

“...”

“...”

“What are we playing?”

Oh no.

“What are we- We’re playing blaseball.” 

“Blaseball?”

_Oh no._

“It’s a splort.”

“Okay.”

“Look- do you know what you’re supposed to do?”

“Yes! I’m supposed to throw the ball. And you are supposed to teach me how.”

Sandoval glanced down to the stop sign in her hands.

Sandoval glanced up at Lars.

_Oh NO._

When Lars Taylor debuted, they were rated zero stars.

* * *

**PLAYING CATCH**

“Everybody thought you’d play for the Mills, kid. Why Moab? Why the Sunbeams?” Sandoval asked, leaning on the fence behind the batting cage. Randall Marijuana, fresh out of New York’s Gen Z Blittle League team, took a few practice swings, tapping his bat on the plate and getting into a proper stance. 

“Why not? No real reason to go there over here,” said Randy.

“I can think of a few.”

“Name one.”

“Your brother.”

“Not fair, name another.” The ball zipped past Randy. Strike, looking.

“You’ve lived in New York your whole life.”

“Oh, come on. That doesn’t count. Give me a real reason.” Another one past. Strike, looking.

“The Mills are good.”

“But-” He went for it this time, but the ball just barely missed his bat. Strike, swinging.

“That’s three, kid, you’re out. I’m not gonna judge you, just go ahead and sate an old fool’s curiosity,” they prodded, watching each swing. Randy sighed. He didn’t take his eye off the ball, but his lips curled into a slight smile.

“What, are you my dad?”

“Can’t claim that. I’m just your teammate, really.”

“Sometimes it’s more fun to dodge people’s expectations. Like you said, everyone thought I was going to play for the Mills. But I took a good long look and decided that maybe Moab would be better for me.” Randy took a hard swing and hit a line drive to right field. He smiled as the two watched it sail through the air. “You ever play Minecraft, Sandy?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s a game about freedom and creativity. Building what you want and working together with your friends. It’s really cool. Top four things in life are Minecraft, weed, cats, and my bro.” Randy turned towards Sandoval and put his bat up on his shoulder. 

“You like cats?” they asked, casually vaulting over the fence and entering the batting cage to offer a water bottle to the new player.

“Yeah,” responded Randy. He took the bottle and cracked it open, taking a long drink. When he finished, he paused, glancing to Sandoval with just the faintest hint of mischief in his eye. “But I’ve just got the one.”

  
  


* * *

**ARTISTIC LICENSE**

Sandoval stepped into the large mansion near the edge of the Hellmouth and took a deep breath. He set down the cardboard box in his hands and wiped off his brow, looking over his shoulder.

“Hollywood, what the hell are you filling these with? Bricks?” he groaned, pulling out a towel to wipe off his brow.

“What, are you worried you’ll throw out your back, old man?” Entering through the door behind him was Alaynabella Hollywood, the one-star star rookie of the Moab Sunbeams. She surveyed the room and pointed. “That box should be full of books- let’s go ahead and set those over there for now.”

“Books? Sol, they must have started making ink out of pure lead,” Sandy grumbled and hoisted the box into his arms again. “Were you planning on carrying any of these yourself, kid?” This is half of a joke, but a very caring one.

“What? No, I need these hands for typing,” Hollywood teased. “Besides, I’ve got you two. And I’m providing margaritas, so…” Laughing, Sandoval put the box down in the indicated spot and stretched. 

“Yes, you are paying quite well. Honestly, I thought this place could never get bought. Rumor is it’s cursed, you know.”

“Yes, that’s why I’ve picked it. Nothing beats lived experience when it comes to writing.” Alaynabella threw open a window and waved her hand to dispel the dust she’d disrupted. The sun filtered in through the opening, and Hollywood gave a quick wave to the sun. For a second, it seemed to Sandoval that the sun shone a little brighter on that spot- stared back, as it were.

The door opened once more and in walked a taller figure- almost reaching Sandoval’s height, and just a hair taller than Hollywood. They set down another cardboard box and pushed up their wireframe glasses.

“That ought to be the last of it, my friends. Now, I hear something about margaritas, do I not?” they said, voice loud, melodic- sweet on Sandoval’s ear.

“Sure, Rhys,” said Sandy. “Time to pay up, Hollywood.”

As Rhys and Sandoval drank their margaritas, Hollywood sat on a stack of cardboard boxes across the room. The laughter of the pair made the house feel less lonely already, and as she watched, Hollywood’s observant eye picked something up. Rhys was a jazz musician, and a stellar one at that- their movements were fluid and graceful, but deliberate. And Sandoval… even despite Sandoval’s lack of irises, Hollywood saw the look he gave Rhys. It was an arrow fired into the dark that the archer knew may never return or even land. It was a stumbling swing- or not even yet, it was the stance before a swing that you may not even end up taking. It was not love. But it might have been, with time.

Hollywood flipped open a pad, clicked her pen, and began to write. Yes, the best thing for writers was lived experience, but… Well, direct observation was damn good sometimes.

* * *

**SPOT THE DIFFERENCE**

“Igneus Delacruz, and Eugenia Bickle,” stated Sandoval, looking at the pair in front of them.

“Yes, that’s the same,” noted Eugenia, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She was Eugenia Bickle, and she wasn’t. She wasn’t the Eugenia who Sandoval had spent the past four seasons playing with, and yet all the same she was Eugenia Bickle.

“What splort do we play, Igneus?” Sandy asked.

“Blaseball,” said Igneus. “I bat, you and Eugenia pitch. And please, Iggy. Feels weird to have you say my whole name.” Igneus- Iggy was like Eugenia. The Alternate Realities decree had just passed. With it had come these people- tilted mirrors of Sandoval’s friends and companions. But new players were new players, so Sandoval invited them over for a proper Sunbeams welcome.

“Great. Well. Uh… My name is Sandoval Crossing. You can call me Sandy, and.. Welcome to the Hellmouth Sunbeams.”

“We know all that, Sandy.”

“Iggy- just let me do my thing, okay? We don’t know what all is fully different yet.”

“Fine, mom,” Iggy rolled his eyes with a laugh. Sandoval laughed as well, though it was hollow. They were still processing. Alternate realities had passed this morning. Two of their friends were gone.

“Yeah, so-” Two of their friends were gone. “-we play in the Lawful Evil division-” Gone. Might never see them again. “-antirivals with the Tigers-” But they’re right here in front of them. “-coach is the Sun-” Looking at them like they didn’t know who Sandoval was. “-smoothies are frankly-” 

“Sandy, stop.” Iggy held out his hand. “You need to slow down, buddy. You’re going a mile a minute.” These words managed to break Sandoval out of the rush, the spiral they were trapped in. They glanced at Iggy and cleared their throat.

“Uh… yeah.”

“Look, we don’t have to do this today. We’ve got a few days before the season starts off, right? You- it’s rough. Don’t push yourself for our sake.” As Iggy spoke, Sandoval locked eyes with him. They glanced to Eugenia, and saw something in her as well. They didn’t see the familiarity of friends, but they didn’t see strangers, either. All they saw were people who needed help. Sandoval reached up and scratched their beard. 

“...Yeah. Maybe we go share a meal or something. I’m not sure I’m up to cooking today, you two want to get something to eat in town?” they asked.

“What kind of places do you have?” countered Eugenia in return.

“We have Malik’s place. Romayne’s Romaine. I expect Iggy to spend a lot of time there!” Sandoval joked.

“...Why’s that?”

“Oh. Y’know. I’ll get to that part later,” they replied, patting both players on the back. Iggy was right. There would always be more time to catch them up on these things.

* * *

**SIESTA TRAINING**

Nagomi leapt at the monster before her and in one swift stroke drove her sword through it’s infernal form. Another advanced on her from behind while she was still pulling her blade out, but Nerd stepped in and delivered a slash across its chest that sent it staggering back. The pair looked at each other, each with a smile across their face.

The labyrinth beneath the Solarium was an arcane complex of tunnels, rooms, traps, monsters, and curses that the Sunbeams occasionally ventured into when it came time to train. With the long siesta after season three reaching almost two years and still no confirmation on when play might resume, the Sunbeams had almost grown used to not playing blaseball. Today’s participants were Nagomi Nava, Nerd Pacheco, and Sandoval, each of whom had taken one of their weapons of choice and sallied forth into the dark. 

“Do we want to do anything after this?” shouted Nerd as they spun their blade around and took several more quick strikes at the beast. 

“We could get something to eat! Maybe go out for something!” Sandoval replied in kind as he stepped out of a nearby doorway and spun back to crack their stop sign across the head of one of the monsters they’d been fighting. As it hit the ground and another surged up to take its place, Sandoval stroked his beard in thought. “What time does the Outback Steakhouse close? And what time is it now?” The question was raised. Nerd and Sandoval glanced at each other, while Nagomi stopped to push up her sleeve and check her watch. She was almost immediately full-body tackled by a raging hellbeast. 

“It doesn’t close, Sandy!” called Nerd. They parried a monster’s strike and shoulder-checked the beast on Nagomi, offering her a hand and helping her to her feet. “It’s, like- it’s always open, but after 10 PM you have to start making offerings to get in.”

“Well, do you have an offering?” asked Sandy.

“I think I have a coupon. Free dinner for two. I was… saving it, but there’s always more,” Nerd replied, producing the slip from their sleeve.

“There’s three of us, Nerd,” chastised Nagomi

“Sandy gets in free, it’s Wednesday. That’s senior’s night.”

“Hey, if you don’t watch out, I’m moving your bedtime up to 9,” warned Sandy, his voice warm. “Come on. Let’s put these coupons to good use.”

* * *

**THE NOTES YOU DON’T PLAY**

_“Don’t worry, Rhys. It might have just been Jaylen. And… if anything happens, I’ll protect the Sunbeams. We’ll be fine.”_

-Sandoval Crossing, Season 2 Day 2

She was a fool to think it would be over after Season 2. To hope that the incinerations would end. She thought it a miracle that the Sunbeams had as a whole survived the eclipses that had claimed 17 lives over the preceding year. Maybe it was.

The only thing rarer than performing a miracle is repeating the act.

Season 3, Day 2. Top of the ninth. The Sunbeams were up 2-1 after getting thrashed thoroughly by the Garages in their first game of the season. If Zackie could hold this down and get three outs, they’d take a nice win and that’d perk up the whole team, which was much needed. Sandy looked out at the Beams in the field and smiled softly as her eye settled on Rhys, who was calling out to Emmett to move in in anticipation of a shorter-

The first sign you notice for the incineration is the flash of the ump’s eyes, if you’re looking for it.

Sandy got to her feet and hauled herself out of the dugout, grabbing her stop sign from her back. She went to sprint out onto the field and felt her hand caught- Sunbeams batting coach Determination Montgomery grabbed her. 

“Sandoval, what are you doing?”

The second sign you notice for the incineration is the temperature spiking on the field.

“Let me go, Det!” she shouted and looked over her shoulder, bellowing with as loud of a voice as she could. “EVERYONE LOOK OUT! THAT UMP IS GONNA G-”

The third sign you notice for the incineration is the noise. People disagree on what it sounds like. For some, it’s the cracks of roaring flame. For some it’s like a whistle in a sinking submarine. For some it’s a howling wind. For Sandoval, it sounds like an ancient bell tolling. By this point, everyone knows it’s coming. 

The umpire stepped out onto the field. Sandoval wrested free of Determination’s grip and narrowed her eyes. Where is it aiming? Who will it go for? She’d never seen it in person- just the tapes. Just the stories of her colleagues. Now that she was here staring down the barrel, Sandoval began to sweat. She didn’t know she still knew how to do that.

It looked to its left. Sandoval followed its line of sight and saw Emmett Internet, stumbling back and falling onto their ass as they went to get away. She moved quickly, sprinting towards the outfield. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone moving the same way- Rhys. Rhys would get there first. Rhys could do it, Rhys always knew what to do. He was so confident. Sandy watched as Rhys grabbed Emmett by the jersey and turned, shoving them towards Sandoval.

The fourth sign is the burst of fire leaping from beneath the umpire’s mask. Flames lick at the crossed metal like wild dogs waiting to be unleashed on the first fielder in the umpire’s path. It is the brightest point in the darkness of the eclipse. It is a futile doom that you can’t help but watch.

“Sandy! Cover the kid!” Rhys shouted.

“Right!” she called back, moving up. “Emmett! Here!”

Emmett stumbled into Sandoval’s arms, and she turned and pulled, sheltering them with her body. She felt the intense heat on her back, heard a scream, a sound like a cymbal rolling, getting louder, and then a crash, and silence.

When she mustered the strength to look back, the last of Rhys’ ashes were being blown away in the wind. She swore she could hear a faint, melancholy trumpet fading into the distance. 

“Emmett,” she muttered, taking her sign into her hand once again. “Get into the dugout.”

“Sandy-”

“I’m not asking. Get in the dugout.”

“I- Right.” They nodded and turned, jogging back towards the rest of the Sunbeams taking shelter.

There was less space between Sandoval and the ump than she thought. She always thought they’d be… bigger. But she was within striking distance. As she raised the sign, she cried to the heavens, voice booming with the low roar of the sun’s cosmic fury.

And then her hand stops. She looks back and sees Randy, both hands around her wrist, holding her back. 

“Sandy, you dumbass!” Randy shouted through tears. “I’m not losing you too!”

“Get off me, kid!” Sandoval shouted, turning to wrench her wrist free. The momentary distraction was enough for Hollywood to run up and wrap her arms around Sandy from behind, and the pair of them began to drag her backwards towards the dugout. After a couple dozen feet, Sandy just felt herself give up.

The game continued. The Sunbeams were down a player, but there was barely enough time left in the game for it to matter. Avila Guzman hit a ground out to Nagomi, and with two outs, Luis Acevedo stepped to the plate. Sandoval was barely watching, just feeling the heat recede in the stadium. Zackie threw a strike, then a ball, and then… wow, that one looked like it was going far. The ball soared through the air, heading right for the spot Rhys played. Emmett and Velasquez both ran for it, but they were too far-

And then the ball impacted into a soft, viscous orange mass. A humanoid figure made of a vibrant liquid stood blankly in the field, the ball slowly sinking into its form. Sandy blinked, and the entire stadium’s eyes settled on the new person. After several seconds of silence, the stadium lit up with cheers. 

“What the heck?” asked Eugenia, with their arm on Sandy’s shoulder, comforting.

“They’re counting it as an out. So that means that… that thing plays for us?” Miguel noted.

“New player!” Lars cheered, grinning bright. It was always hard to keep that one down for long.

“Miguel, grab me one of the spare jerseys. I… should go make sure our new player’s alright.” Sandy got to her feet. She couldn’t help Rhys, but… maybe she could do this. Give a warm welcome. That… seemed like something she could do.

* * *

**BY POPULAR DEMAND**

The Sunbeams huddled around a television in the Solarium’s locker room. Sandy stood in the back, looking over the heads and through the smoke wisping off of Iggy and Miguel. The team was rattled by the Shelled One’s appearance, but a round of smoothies on Sandoval was easing that feeling. The newscaster spoke.

_“Our top story tonight is the ILB’s yearly election, of which we have the results. We go now to our top ILB correspondent, Haylee Braggadocio. Haylee?”_

_“Thanks, Ronalt. This season certainly has been one for the record books. Before we get to the results of this season’s election, we’d like to observe a moment of silence for the twelve players lost to Jaylen Hotdogfingers’ hit-by-pitches.”_

Sandoval took off their hat and held it to their chest with a sigh. Moody, Scorpler, Yazmin, Dominic, Workman, Sebastian, Miguel (Wheeler), Boyfriend, Murray, Antonio, Elijah, and Frasier- Sandoval was varying levels of close with them, from being quite good friends (Moody, Yazmin, Dominic, Scorpler) to barely knowing them at all (Elijah, Murray, Frasier) but each one still hit them when it happened. By the time they pulled themselves out of the remembrance, the reporter was beginning her summary.

_“...Bless Off, which will be preventing the top four teams from the regular season from getting blessings. This will be affecting the Crabs, Breath Mints, Shoe Thieves, and Jazz Hands. Now, the big story is the Fridays, who won five separate blessings. Was this the result of an excellently strategized voting plan, or were they just lucky? Either way, congratulations to the Fridays on their two new players Aldon Cashmoney and Evelton McBlase II, Super Idol York Silk, unidolizable player Jacob Winner, and the shame on every division other than their own.”_

Sandy grunted and covered their ears as the low roar of the Shame Pit growled at an almost subaural level. This was going to be a pain in the ass to deal with all season. The rest of the team followed suit, save one. They looked next to them to see Joe Voorhees, a recent addition, unfazed. Made sense.

_“Another highlight tonight is the Chicago Firefighters claiming the blessing Champs in the Making, which let them steal three players from your Season 7 Internet League Champions, the CDMX Wild Wings. Congratulations to Kennedy Rogers, who has been exchanged for Mullen Peterson. You are now from Chicago. Congratulations to Axel Cardenas, who has been exchanged for Joshua Watson. You are now from Chicago. And congratulations to José Haley, who has been exchanged for… Axel Cardenas. You are now from Chicago. And Axel Cardenas, congratulations, you are no longer from Chicago.”_

From behind everyone, Hendricks snorted and started into a quip about the velocity of money, but Hollywood shushed him.

 _“The Hellmouth Sunbeams won two blessings this season, the first of which being Stickum.”_ Already, the team could hear delivery trucks pulling up outside of the Solarium. They turned back the screen. _“The second is Downsizing, which will send one of their lineup to the Shadows.”_

The tension in the room was immediate. Lars looked concernedly at Nerd, and Hollywood tensed up. But in the end, Sandy glanced to Joe and saw the portal of darkness opening behind him.

_“Joe Voorhees, congratulations. You will now retreat to the Shadows.”_

Grasping hands reached out from the portal and went for Joe, but Sandoval stepped in the way and knocked them out of the way with their sign. They looked back at Joe.

“I’m sorry, Joe,” Sandoval started. “You weren’t with us for long, but you were one of us. This has to happen. But the least we could do is get you safe passage. Hollywood?”

“Right.” Alaynabella stepped up with her bat and cracked a hard swing at another hand. “I’ll name a character after you, you big lug.”

On the other side, Sutton Bishop began to keep the hands at bay with a cricket bat.

Nagomi put a hand on Joe’s shoulder. Her eyes glowed blue, and she nodded. “You’ll have a clear shot through in ten seconds. Go safely, Joe Voorhees.”

Sandoval stepped up. They held up the stop sign to the hands, turned back, and waved Joe through to the other side.

_“I’m Haylee Braggadocio, and that’s all on today’s ILB report. Back to you, Ronalt.”_

* * *

**ACQUIRED TASTE**

“This is purely awful, Mx. Crossing.”

“You’re not wrong, Hendricks.”

Sandoval sat across from Hendricks Richardson outside of the Rhys Trombone Memorial Food Court and Equestrian Center, each holding a cup with a disorientingly colored smoothie within. Sandy was halfway through hers, and Hendricks had taken two sips.

“Why do you insist I drink this nightmarish concoction, captain?”

“I’m not your captain. And I’m not insisting, just asking. We like to get these after games.”

“Why? Surely there are better beverages in Hellmouth.”

“I mean, all the water is boiling.”

“Categorically, water is not a beverage.”

“Is that right.”

“Beverage is defined as a drink other than water.”

“Fascinating.”

“Of course, reality is only as shaped by language, so I suppose you could define beverage as including water, but that would make it harder to communicate with those who opt for the definition of beverage that excludes water. And since communication is the point of language, I think we ought to stay with the more widely accepted denotation of bev-“

“Hendricks.”

“Apologies. What is it, Capt- er, Mx. Crossing?”

“How long have you been in Hellmouth now?” Sandy asked, setting her smoothie down.

“Five days,” Hendricks answered. He winced slightly, reaching over and rubbing his arm where the scales were starting to set in the most.

“Mhm.” Sandoval nodded sympathetically. “And what do you think?”

“...Well, it’s terrible. It’s Hell, is it not?”

“The one and only.” Pause, little head tilt. “Well.”

“What is your point, Mx. Crossing?”

Sandy gestured to the smoothies between the two of them. They reached out and picked up theirs. “Hellmouth isn’t good. And neither are these. But if you acclimate to it, there… there is always something you’ll find to like. We’ve been drinking these smoothies for years on years. I enjoy them. So does everyone else. So did Randy. I’m sending some over to Breckenridge today so he can have some of that taste of home. But nobody will tell you they taste good, and if you were any less Adapted than you already are, they might knock you right out. But it’s about finding the good in the bad. It’s about looking at a smoothie with Sol knows what in it, and finding a note, a flavor you enjoy, and letting it carry the experience for you. And it’s about sharing that smoothie with friends. It’s about being cast into Hell with your teammates, and forging a family. It’s about looking at a pit in the desert and finding a community of one part survivors like me, one part ill-fated souls like you, and one part monstrosities like Sutton. And we live, work, suffer, and play blaseball together. And the line blurs between the three. And you can go ahead and take what you want out of it, but being stuck in a situation like this means that you have to sift the good from the mountainous bad. Now come on, drink up. I still need to show you around town a bit more.”

“Have you considered taking up an adjunct position at the local community college? I think academia needs more rough around the edges types such as yourself,” Hendricks took a longer sip, forgetting precisely what he held in his hands, and let out a hacking cough that sprayed a small bit of fire out across the table. Sandoval laughed as it brushed over her, unaffected.

“Not my speed. But maybe you should look into it, Hendricks. Maybe you can get some students that aren’t wolves.”

“But the wolves are progressing so well in their understanding of Engels. I think the nature of the proletariat is beginning to finally help them realize some things about their own living situation and how it pertains to-”

“Hendricks.”

“Yes, Mx. Crossing?”

“Shut the hell up and drink your smoothie.”

* * *

**WHO REAPS THE WHIRLWIND**

_SEVERE MURMURATION WARNING IN THE AREA._

As the Sunbeams walked into the dugout and the Spies emerged from theirs, Sandoval looked down at the crow next to him and scratched its head with two fingers. He smiled slightly and looked into the sky, where the rest of the flock swirled above the dugout. Since becoming a Friend to Crows, they’d mostly followed him at a respectable distance, but he didn’t know what they’d do once in a game. His eyes trailed- 

_SEVERE BLOODDRAIN WARNING IN THE AREA._

-to the roiling mass of reddish cloud and the distinct gurgling permeating the air from its general direction. His eyes shifted to Dudley, who had become enamored lately with a box of plastic straws. The officials said Dudley was something new, a Siphon, something to do with the Blooddrain. But it would take longer to figure out what that did as well. He looked back to see Sutton take the plate, cricket bat in tendril, and glanced into the sky one more time-

_SEVERE SOLAR ECLIPSE WARNING._

...Right. The too familiar ring of light hung in the sky like a crosshair. It cut the Sunbeams off. It made Sandy sick. He grimaced and turned around to see Nagomi standing suddenly in front of him. Their eyes glowed blue. Precognition. It’d happened before. In the blink of an eye, Nagomi took a hop to the left, and Sandoval felt heat on his back. Rogue ump.

A blast of concentrated flame lanced past Sandy, and Nagomi crouched into a fighting stance in its path and opened her mouth. The resulting blast blew Sandy off his feet, but as he was tumbling through the air, he saw the shockwave crash and throw a few of the Beams through the front wall of the dugout. Smoke filled the air, and the game momentarily ground to a halt as he coughed and got back to his feet. 

“NAGOMI!” he shouted out, forcing his feet into motion and running into the smoke. Waving his hat did little to dispel the smoke. “Shit, hello! Who’s here? Top of the lineup, sound off!”

“I’m here! I’m fine!” Hahn.

“Most of the blast missed me.” Hendricks.

“loud,n confusning but ok” Dudley.

Sutton was at the plate. It was fine.

Sigmund was visibly still fine. Sandy could see them towering above the smoke. And if they were still standing, the other pitchers in the rotation were fine inside.

“What the hell was that?” Iggy.

“Well, according to my calculatio-” Nerd.

“...” Nagomi…?

Sandy moved forward, trying to find where he’d last seen them before the rogue ump’s blast hit. His foot caught a divot in the ground, and he crouched to find marks he’d been very familiar with before. Feet dug into earth, sliding back but not yielding. Sandoval followed them until he saw a silhouette, glowing and orange in the smoke.

Nagomi clutched their chest tight. Lines of cracked magmatic potential opened all across them, and the Passenger in them was none too happy and no less charged than they were. They staggered back and leaned against the last major length of dugout wall as the rest of the Beams pulled themselves out of the detritus. Sandy reached out and grabbed their hand, his face panicked.

“Nagomi, talk to me. Are you alright, are you- are you going to make it?” He stammered, and they laughed.

“Oh, yeah. I-” Cough. Harsh, but not severe. “I’m fantastic, Sandoval. I feel like my molecules are having a mosh pit but I’m alive. Fire does not taste good.”

He slumped back and sighed. The friends he’d seen go up in smoke flashed through his mind- Rhys, Velasquez, Emmett, Randy, Moody, Yazmin, Mickey, Caligula- and until that smoke cleared, he was sure Nagomi was gone. They’d said they were a Fire-Eater now, but Sandoval had learned to only trust his friends and his eyes in this damned splort. There was every chance that could have been it. And Nagomi… Nagomi would have been the last straw for him.

But a cascading wave of hope washed over him.

That meant Fish was safe, on the Moist Talkers.

That meant Andrew was safe, on the Millennials.

That meant Margarito was safe, on the Flowers.

The other Nagomi, on the Crabs.

He laughed, and the Beams looked at him funny. But Nagomi nodded, holding themself together.

“I wouldn’t leave you that easy, old man,” they hacked out. “Get me a bat. I need to hit something. Hard.”

The League watched as Nagomi stepped up to the plate in the third inning and, with a searingly bright blast of magmatic energy, they cracked a home run out of the park, returning mostly to normal as they rounded the bases.

Maybe, just maybe, thought Sandy, he could finally start to follow through on that promise to Rhys from Sol knows how long ago.

* * *

**TWO ENDINGS**

There was a banging on Sandy’s apartment door. The light was out, but the glow around them let them see well enough. Their head rang with a silence they hadn’t known in millennia, and they felt their entire essence screaming out in grief and pain. They were on the floor. That was what registered last for them, that they were completely horizontal with a broken sarsaparilla bottle next to them. The banging continued. Someone was trying to get in.

_The Crabs._

The Crabs… Sandoval turned their head and saw their TV, flickering but displaying a fuzzy image of the Crabs, Your Season 10 Internet League Champions. They weren’t rejoicing, not as hard as they could be. They were scared…? And determined. For… what?

_The Shoe Thieves._

Esme. Oh, hell, Esme. If Sandy had a heart left to break, that game against the Thieves and their Flinch would have done it.

_Tot Fox._

Tot Fox? Hahn’s… wife’s… cousin?

_Hits a Single. 1 scores. The Sun… collapses…_

As Sandy’s vision faded to black again, the door swung open and someone came in. Footsteps came over to them, worried, followed by the familiar sound of eldritch goose movement across the apartment floor. And then they were out.

An ancient conversation reached the surface of their mind.

_Hello, mortal._

“Uh... who’s there? I can’t see- it’s so bright-“

_What is your name?_

“S-Sandoval, I, uh- where am I?”

_Curious that you would end up in this place, Sandoval. And that on your vest, ‘Crossing?’ Is that your surname?_

“What? No, my last name is… C… Ca? What is it?”

_Is something the matter, Sandoval?_

“I can’t remember, I- why can’t-“

_Too much time in this light blinds you to yourself, Sandoval._

“I was- I was at work, and then-“

_Easy. Take it easy, Sandoval. This is a strain on your physical form._

“You didn’t answer- where am I?”

_Far from home, Sandoval. Far from home._

“Who are you?”

_I am Sol. I am the Sun, but I am not your Sun. I am going to help you get through this, and though you may never recall that we spoke here and now, I trust that you will carry on in a way that brings light into the world. Do you agree to my help?_

“Wh… what? Yes. Help me.”

_We will talk later. You should not forget any more of who you are, lest you become someone truly new. For now, relax. Rest. Blaseball Dawns._

When Sandy came to, the lights were on. They had a loose assortment of high visibility vests draped over them in lieu of a blanket, and a pillow off the couch had been pushed under their head. There was something kind of heavy on their side- Sutton had curled up under their arm. It seemed to be asleep, but as Sandy looked over, they caught it closing its eyes and miming snoring in a wholly unconvincing way. A pair of sneakers entered the frame, and Sandy glanced up to see Nagomi Nava, crossing her arms.

It took Sandy five minutes to get to their feet. They felt weaker than ever before. Strength was waning. It was no doubt in their mind, Sol was… gone. They caught their reflection in a mirror and saw their fiery eyes, dim and barely embering, petering out. They needed something to keep them- something that could give them as much or more lifeforce as Sol did. 

“Nagomi,” they breathed. “Go into the reinforced door in the back room. Take the journals you see there. They’re full of all the things I’ve done with you- with the Beams, and everyone, and- I- I want you to burn them. Light them up.”

“What?” Nagomi eased them into an armchair. “You want to burn your journals?"

“Room was getting crowded anyway. And you don’t have to do anything fancy, but, like. Treat it like a ritual burning. I need- I’ll try to hold on until you can.” Sandy gripped her hand as tight as possible, which barely felt like anything to Nagomi. “Please.”

Nagomi took a deep breath, and nodded. “Right. Right, Sandy. I’ll do what I can.”

Sandy heard the fire ignite a few minutes later, and focused. Find the fire. Listen to the roar of the flame. Feel the heat on your face. Smell the smoke. Open your eyes, and stare…

They shot up in their armchair, sucking in a deep breath and holding their chest. Nagomi ran in and grabbed their hand, and they squeezed her hand tightly. 

“Nagomi! It- I think it worked,” they gasped, laughing with the desperate glee of a survivor. Nagomi let a slight smile show as she turned back to the TV and adjusted the old antenna.

“Good. Because this is something you’re going to want to see.”

The picture sharpened on the television and Sandoval finally understood what was going on in the image. They saw a tall, imposing mass of plant matter with a pink flower atop swinging a bat at a pitch. It was a hard hit that sent the ball up and into the Shelled One, who the camera showed to be hovering over the game. Cracks formed in that divine shell, where a series of blaseballs had already made clear impacts. Caligula Lotus rounded the bases in celebration and the camera settled back on home plate.

“Cali?” Sandoval breathed, sitting forward. “But-” Nagomi motioned for them to wait.

Emmett Internet stepped up to bat, and Randall Marijuana cheered from the dugout.

Sandoval was on their feet in a second, cheering. Hands over their mouth. Crying. Laughing. They knew that it may not last. But it meant everything to them to see this. Maybe, just maybe, it could all end.

With Nagomi and Sutton, Sandoval Crossing watched the Discipline Era come to a close.

* * *

**DAWN**

Sandoval leaned on the stadium railing and watched as Lars Taylor took the mound in the bottom of the ninth. Game five, with a scoreline of 9-5 and the Black Hole looming overhead. All Lars had to do here was hold the Garages to three or fewer runs. Sandoval leaned forward a bit more as the Lone Star pitcher began to get themselves pumped, signing a few things to themselves with their phantom arms.

“Peace and prosperity, huh?” she asked, looking to her side. And there stood a recently released Randall Marijuana, wearing a size-too-big high-vis vest and a Sunbeams cap, smiling.

“Yeah,” said Randy. “What are you gonna do with it?”

“Dunno,” replied Sandoval. “Think I might travel, see the world.”

“And once you get back?”

“Well that’s a loaded question, isn’t it, kiddo?” Sandoval turned now fully and faced Randy. “What, do you have a bright idea?”

“Mmm… no, not really.” Shrug. 

“You know,” said Sandoval with a glint in her eye. “I think we’ve got a real shot here to change things for the better. Build something new. Build… build what we want, and have fun with our friends.”

“Just like Minecraft.” Randy laughed. “You sappy old-”

“Oh you have to give me this one,” Sandy protested. “...But really. I think we’re entering unexplored territory. All of us, all the players, and all of you god-killers, and everyone. So. That’s fun.”

“Yeah, you gonna lead the Beams to victory two more times? Get on up there after the Crabs for bodying us so goddamn hard all the time?” nudged Randy with a playful grin.

“Oh, shut up, kid,” she chuckled. “...I would have had as much fun this season if we went 0-99. It’s not about the wins, it’s never been. We’ve never been this good.”

“Well, sometimes it’s more fun to dodge people’s expectations.”

“You got that much right,” she responded as she looked back out to see Oliver Notarobot strike out looking, the crowd around them erupting into roaring cheers. She pulled back from the railing and turned to walk down to the field. “You want to get smoothies after the parade and all that with the rest of the team, kid?”

“Oh, fuck yeah. I missed those things so bad.”

“Great. I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah! I’ll be in the stands with Hollywood and Horne and Malik, you won’t be able to miss us. Love you, Dad.”

Sandy stopped, looked over her shoulder, and felt her heart swell with pride.

“Love you too, Randy.”

_THE HELLMOUTH SUNBEAMS ARE YOUR SEASON 11 CHAMPIONS_


End file.
